Strength
by CSNprofan
Summary: THE CITY OF TOWNSVILLE, a thriving city with inhabitants living the most luxurious of lives, but money isn't all that matters. Follow our 6 favourite (ordinary) teenagers as they go through High School, which is never an easy road. Read more to see another side of the characters we thought we knew so well. Please read and review :) (Original pairings)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

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><p>Chapter 1: Townsville<p>

_Blossom's POV_

_2 weeks ago_

_Blossom clung to the silence in the deserted chapel, the funeral was over and the handful of guests who had shown up had left. Some of her band mates and teachers had offered their condolences, some of her father's ex-colleagues (in the scientific field) had mutely offered her a pat on the shoulder, somehow hoping that it would make up for her shattered universe. Condolences or no, sympathy or no, nothing would ever change the fact that John Utonium, her beloved father, was in a better place. She rationalised that perhaps, this was something to be grateful for, that he would finally be free from the pain of being completely paralysed (save his neck and head) and bedridden from the car incident he suffered a little less than a year ago. _

_In the dank hall, Blossom replayed her favourite memories of John in her head. His thoughts teemed with a sort of infectious positivity, and that kept her going even on nights when she returned home, bones and fingers aching from an intense day of work as a pianist. _

_Hurried but soft footsteps on the carpeted aisle of the church stole Blossom's attention. She looked up from her father's coffin as the woman slid into place next to her on the first bench. The two pairs of pink eyes met, and at that instant, Blossom felt _everything_. She felt anger, betrayal, sadness, happiness, a whole mess of emotions that crashed over her. She felt her head fall into her mother's shoulder, her hot tears staining her face and blurring her vision._

_She sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed._

"_In a whole year, you never came. Never visited once! All you did was call, and call, and call but that doesn't count! I had to work to support us, an-an-and-and take care of him, and study an–" she had managed to choke out._

"_I know, I-I-I'm so, so sorry Blossom, but your father, he didn't want me to see him that way. All the money that I had sent for the both of you had been redirected by his orders into your college fund. I'm sorry. He loved you so much. And I love you very much, Blossom. I'm so sorry." Hearing her mother's voice and words after a year apart, the effect on Blossom was gripping and she was squeezed dry of tears._

_In the comfort of their solitude, Sara and Blossom clung to each other, drawing comfort from their mother-daughter embrace. Even after the sobs had stopped, they held each other, relishing in the time they could finally spend together after being sorely deprived of each other's company._

"_Your father, he was so strong, he never wanted me to see him this way." Sara had broken the silence, her puffy pink eyes searching Blossom's own, desperate for understanding and empathy. Blossom understood, as much as she wanted to, she could never be angry with her own mother. She knew her father loved her and her mother dearly, and she understood his adamance over not having Sara visit them. He may have been an optimistic individual, but nothing could discount the hurt he would feel when he saw the woman he loved weep for him. He didn't want to be treated that way, and more importantly, he didn't want his Sara to hurt that way._

"_Mom, he loved you, very, very much, you know?"_

"_I know, I know, and I did too."_

"_Before, he said that he regrets separating us, because that meant less time with you."_

_Blossom could feel her mother choking back sobs with each reminder of their loss. She could tell that it hurt as much as a knife through the heart. _

"_Bu-but we agreed to do it to keep you safe. With my… line of work, the amount of attention you would get throughout your growing years wouldn't have been healthy. We agreed that I would discreetly see you on the weekends but after your father's accident, he begged me to stay away. Blame those pesky paparazzi!" Sara had finished light-heartedly, in a feeble attempt to dilute the thick air that was suffocating._

_They laughed lightly. Humourlessly._

"_Now that most of the tears and grief is out,"_

"_We shouldn't push ourselves down with mourning."_

"_John was always an optimist,"_

"_He would want to see us happy."_

_They embraced once again with their common understanding. The rekindled bond that had faded into oblivion for the past year had been strengthened once again, albeit through a grave loss and 3 hours of crying together in a stuffy chapel._

_Blossom understood that she would never be completely free of the missing piece in her life, but she was determined to live it to the fullest, and to seize the day whenever she could, because that's what her father would have wanted._

_That's what John would have wanted for the 2 most important women in the life he lived._

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><p>Blossom looked over to her mother, who offered her an assuring smile. Blossom felt, despite the twinge of sorrow that clung to her, a sense of pride at seeing her mother carry herself with such tranquillity and confidence. Blossom knew that though she was still hurting, she was trying to move on. It was hard to imagine that only 2 weeks ago, the talented and internationally renowned actressmodel-turned-director/philanthropist had gone in a plain black dress, face devoid of cosmetics, to her husband's funeral and had bawled her eyes out. But Blossom knew better, and she was so proud of her mother's admirable strength.

She had spent days after her father's death grieving, gripping her chest and crying until she felt sick. She had spent the past two weeks wallowing in silence and memories when she wasn't with Sara. It was refreshing that change was finally arriving, and she had finally felt a novel feeling – hope. She couldn't express how much she was looking forward to settling into a new life in Townsville, a bustling metropolis that housed some of America's (and the world's) greatest names.

Blossom spent the car ride perusing through her favourite novel, occasionally glancing out of the limo's tinted windows to admire the glassy jungle encasing her new home. Books always comforted her, and as she read on, she drew comfort from its words, preparing herself for the future to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

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><p>Chapter 2: Mother-Daughter Bonding Time<p>

_Blossom's POV_

Blossom had never been to Townsville, but that didn't mean she had never heard of it. And seeing that it was a reputably spotless place, she knew it was where the cream of the crop resided. The traffic seemed to whiz past without time to spare, people chatted on cell phones as they speed-walked through the streets of the bustling city. Amazing quality of life coupled with fast-paced living, yup, _definitely_ very different from quiet and quaint Citiesville, Blossom noted.

During all her weekend visits and even after their meeting at the funeral, Blossom had never seen her celebrity mother decked out in flashy clothing with flawless make up on. All Blossom's life, Sara Bellum-Utonium had looked like the average mother, in average clothes, going about her average life. But clearly, celebrity Sara Bellum had a reputation to uphold, which was highlighted by her designer purse, shirt and jeans. Blossom still had difficulty processing the fact that she was now the daughter of an insanely successful woman, who was not only an influential icon, but a well-known philanthropist as well. She knew it was silly, but she couldn't help but feel a little out of place in her old faded jeans and overwashed sweatshirt. The only thing that linked her, appearance wise, to her mother was her stunning pair of pink irises. Both Sara and Blossom were far from albinos and they didn't suffer from pink eye either, so it was arguably a birth "defect" they both shared.

Blossom prided herself in being a calm, down-to-earth young woman who would be ready at all times to take on the world, but never in her wildest dreams did she expect to step out of a _limo_ onto an beautifully cobbled driveway leading to a huge _mansion_. It was absolutely beautiful. _Breathtaking_. The Victorian-style bungalow presented itself as if it were cut freshly from a fairytale book and placed delicately on one of Townsville's most expensive plot of lands bordering the suburbs. The grand iron gates towered with an air of graceful austerity. Blossom was speechless. She turned to face Sara, who was just exiting the vehicle.

"Thi-this, this is yours? This? This _whole_ thing? It's yours?" Blossom sputtered while gesturing to the house.

Sara chuckled, amused at her daughter's reaction. "It's _ours_ now."

Blossom had never felt so light-headed and she felt a smile creep across her rosy cheeks. Her face flushed with awe as her eyes devoured the magnificent architecture. To her, this was equivalent to a palace. And she was going to be _living in it._ She noticed a small side door swing open to reveal a stout, pudgy little woman in her late forties. Her mousy-brown hair was pulled back into a haphazard bun and she rushed forth in a large robe. A robe? She had the biggest grin on her face and her eyes were filled with… relief. Relief?

"Ms Sara! Ms Sara! I pray you've been alright, yeah?" Blossom pinpointed her Scottish accent. Was this her mother's housekeeper? Friend, maybe? Cousin, possibly?

Blossom stood, lost in thought as the little woman (who barely reached Blossom's chin) crashed into her and swallowed her in a bear hug.

"And you, little lass, must be Miss Blossom? Why, you're as pretty as your mother is lovely! And she is!" she chuckled heartily before moving to unload the luggages with the chauffeur.

Blossom barely managed a faint, surprised word of thanks before her mother lead her gently by the arm and whispered, "I have a huge surprise for you. Over my stay at Citiesville, I had Agnes, our housekeeper, carry out some plans to prepare the rooms for your stay. I really hope you like it! Oh, and Agnes is quite lovely isn't she?" Sara said through suppressed giggles.

"Of course, not to mention pleasantly… quirky?" Blossom breathed as she felt the smile on her face widen as the memory of their dear housekeeper rushing out of the house in a billowy robe, her blue pyjamas still hugging her plump frame.

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><p>Blossom was breathless. The interior of the house had been equally, if not more, beautiful as compared to its exterior. The marble floors were spotless, thanks to Agnes, and the rosewood furniture gave the house a warm, homey ambience. It was so blissfully elegant and Blossom had to struggle to resist the urge to slap herself in order to stop gawking at every nook and cranny of her new home. It was filled with a labyrinth of corridors and an array of spacious rooms, three of which had been specially prepared for Blossom, who was bursting with gratefulness at her mother's generosity.<p>

Sara had given Blossom a music room, complete with a white grand piano that played the sweetest of notes and pristine glass cases to hold her violin, accordion, ukulele and flute. Her instruments sat safely in their cases, having been delivered by the movers the day before. The acoustics of the room was to die for and Blossom had just stood at the center of the room, her hand fingering the piano keys gingerly as she took in her surroundings. It was her wonderland, her musical haven where she could escape into sweet melodies and disappear into her instruments.

Being the bookworm that she was, Blossom couldn't help but be dumbstruck as her mother led her to her very own mini library. The soft pink walls were lined with bookshelves that stretched to the ceilings, a few rows at the bottom having been completely filled with Blossom's existing book collection (that Sara had Agnes sort before their arrival), arranged neatly by author. The vacant shelves called out to Blossom, craving words and books to fill the empty void. Blossom was, in a word, overwhelmed by the sight. This was her room, her escape into her imagination. The pink beanbag in the centre of the room presented comfort and promise of a lovely day filled with endless reading. Blossom imagined herself sitting there for hours on end, drinking in every word and thought from her books like warm chicken soup. Sara Bellum knew her daughter very well, no doubt.

Blossom's bedroom was the icing atop her cake of surprises. It was spacious and had a king-sized mahogany poster bed against one of its soft pink walls. Her room had a large, neat desk fully equipped with organising cardboard dividers to hold books and papers of sorts, as well as the newest computer. As she stepped through the door, sunlight streamed through the glass-paned windows that tiled neatly above a little alcove that had a comfortable-looking window seat. Blossom was thoroughly impressed, even with the (empty) walk-in closet that was adjoined to her bedroom (even though she was never one for fashion). What was most heartening was the photo frames that lined the wall above her study table, filled with precious memories of the Utonium family spending time together. She had never felt more at home.

Blossom spun on her heel and wrapped her arms appreciatively around her mother, a profuse amount of "thank you so much"s pouring from her. If happiness could be quantified, Blossom was sure that the amount of sheer joy she felt on this day would easily outnumber the hundreds of others she'd lived through in the past year.

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><p>"Mom, really we don't have to. I mean, you've already done so much, and we've bought so much, and you even got me a car, and Mom, really it's oka–"<p>

Sara grabbed the multitude of shopping bags from Blossom's hands (each containing designer clothes and shoes to replace all of Blossom's clothes that had donated to charity before her move to Townsville) and nudged Blossom into the last store on their shopping list. The sign screamed "YOUTHSTYLE" and was filled with racks upon racks of the trendiest clothes.

"Go pick out what you like! I'll be waiting right outside. Text me when it's time to pay!" Sara encouraged as Blossom strolled into the store. Pop music blared from the speakers, an indication that this was probably a teen shopping hotspot. Blossom cringed, she didn't do well with crowds, fashion, or expensive clothes. The past 5 hours had been brutal, with her mother scrutinizing her each time she exited a changing room. Blossom had also set a personal record of changing into 4 different outfits in 5 minutes (of course, she had calculated).

She entered the store to be greeted by a young girl, no older than herself, with piercing lime green eyes and dark, raven hair that fell messily above her shoulders. Her green nametag pinned to the black uniform read "BC" and she smiled coolly at Blossom, bouncing lightly in her battered green Converse sneakers.

"Uh, hi… BC, I'm Blossom. And I need something t–"

"To wear?" the girl grinned, her voice low with a unique hoarse edge to it.

Blossom nodded, and followed her further into the store.

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><p>"Thanks and hey, hope you enjoy your buys." BC chimed, as Sara footed the bill. She flashed Blossom a smile and waved as they exited the store. Blossom had been immensely thankful for BC's service, and had even felt a little guilty for sending her on countless trips to the storage rooms when the racks didn't have a size that fit well.<p>

As they crossed the car park, Blossom found herself hoping for her future classmates to be as friendly and welcoming as the people she'd encountered thus far. Needless to say, she was nothing short of eager to start school on Monday at Townsville High, a prestigious academy, so she had been told. Blossom had always loved school, she had always loved learning and knowledge, and had never failed to perform as a stellar honour student. Her good grades were a testimony of her hard work, and they left her with immense satisfaction with her numerous successes. Hard work and academic success was always welcome in her book, which was why she always saw the desire for fashion and clothes to be one that was inane and unnecessarily expensive. At least, until she realised that it was a given for people to dress their best in Townsville, and that she was no longer an exception.

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><p>Author's note: Thank you for Hinako29 for reviewing the previous chapter :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

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><p>Chapter 3: Townsville High<p>

_Blossom's POV_

Blossom stepped out of her car, stumbling slightly in her black, patent toe pumps that posed an imminent danger with their 3-inch heels. She had never been one for heels, and this was evidence enough of that. She slung her Townsville High leather schoolbag, complete with the school emblem on its brown, textured surface, over her shoulder and moved slowly towards the flight of steps that would lead her into her new world of knowledge.

As she made her way past the freshly cut school lawn, she spotted groups of students sitting around and relaxing before the start of a new school day. Each student wore a neatly pressed dark blue blazer over a white blouse (or shirt, for the boys) with a tie of his or her own choice (naturally, she had settled for a soft pink one). The boys wore long, cream slacks that looked very comfortable and _expensive_, along with shined oxfords; while the girls sported knee-length dark plaid skirts and a pair of black patent toe heels. Some of the girls were even _running_ around with those heels, but how they managed that, Blossom would probably never know.

As Blossom stepped through the front glass doors, she stood gaping at the expanse of spotless walls that were lined with neat rows of black lockers. Students had lockers that stretched a few inches above their heads, and Blossom almost became giddy with uniformity as she struggled past the crowds like a salmon against the current. Students rushed in and out of rooms, hands full with books and papers, filling up the wide hallways that seemed to be separated into two clear-cut lanes of traffic. The floors were spick and span, and none of the lockers had any form of vandalism on it. As she scanned the rest of the school hall, it became clear that a ton of effort was put into making the school presentable. Everything here, at least based on first impressions, was in order, and Blossom _loved_ that. Order gave her a sense of security, and knowing that she was in control of some things in her already-unpredictable life was a great source of comfort. She smiled, trailing slowly to the main office, tuning out the shrill ringing of the school bell that signaled the start of the first class.

Blossom treaded lightly into the main office and greeted the perky staff behind the front counter. She was handed her timetable, printed, orderly sorted and ready for use, and was ushered to a comfortable sofa to await her meeting with the principal.

_So far so good_, Blossom thought to herself, subconsciously wringing her hands to rid herself of "first-day nerves". She huffed softly to herself – this was ridiculous, as a level-headed and worldly young woman, it was absurd for her to be daunted by something as trivial as her first day of school. She felt like such a child. But then again, this was high school, which was as dangerous a situation as dressing up as a piece of steak and parading around a lions' den. She had never been to a prestigious and well-hailed academy, much less lived it up with the rich and (children of the) famous. Heck, she barely even spoke 2 words to kids at her old school. When she wasn't buried in a book or studying, she was working, and if not, she would have been at home taking care of her father. Her father. Her father. _Her father._ Despite the constant knots in her belly, Blossom felt a surge of almost-confidence at the thought of John Utonium's unwavering never-say-die attitude. He never let his fears rule his actions, and she prayed that she could be that way too. She wanted to make him proud and she would jolly well have to muster blatant courage from _somewhere_.

As she ended her mental monologue, Blossom caught sight of a petite woman stepping out of the Principal's office. She was in a beige pantsuit with a soft orange shirt under her blazer, and her light blue eyes twinkled with kindness and a kind of youthfulness, despite the small wrinkles at the side of her eyes that were barely noticeable.

"Blossom Utonium?" the lady inquired gently.

_Steady the buffs, old girl_, Blossom reminded herself as she nodded in reply.

"I'm Ms Keane, principal of Townsville High. Welcome to our school and we hope you have a wonderful time with us, learning and growing as an active student and member of our very inclusive community!"

"Hello, I'm Blossom and I'm very pleased and honoured to be here. Thank you so much for having me." Blossom continued sweetly, extending her hand to shake Ms Keane's in greeting. Blossom checked _Manners and Greetings_ off her mental checklist that detailed her sure-fire steps for successful social interaction. _So far so good._

"Why, thank you, Blossom! I'm sure we'll have you settled in in no time! This is Mitch Michelson, one of our executive student councilors. He'll be taking you on a school tour, so don't be afraid to bombard him with questions, dear! Just follow him and he'll show you around." Ms Keane stepped aside to reveal a tall, lanky boy with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. He wore the standard uniform with a burgundy tie and an additional golden badge pinned above his left breast pocket. He offered Blossom a warm smile and a light "Welcome to Townsville High, I'm Mitch." With that Ms Keane ushered them out of her office and sent them on their way to begin Blossom's school tour.

"So, wanna stop by your locker first?" Mitch asked, eyebrows raised in question. Blossom nodded and the two set off for locker 65, engaging in small talk along the way.

Blossom would be lying if she said that interacting with people of her age was a piece of cake. In fact, it was _far_ from a simple feat. Blossom had never excelled in active social interaction, and of course, she could blame it on her hectic work-school schedule. But there was always a little piece of Blossom that always preferred to stay quiet and thoughtful, shying away from too much attention in her old school. She made a great leader when called upon and had even led the Junior Marching Band as its Drum major in her freshman year back in Citiesville, but her taxing duties as a daughter, breadwinner and student had left her with little time to spare for Social Interaction Training.

Thankfully, as the tour went on, Blossom warmed up to Mitch and his infectious energy. One could hardly resist laughing at the lame jokes he cracked. The General Treasurer (which she had gathered from the title on his badge) seemed like a pretty free spirit and was definitely very easy to talk to. She could see how many would deem him as Student Council material. _See, Blossom? And there you were being irrationally paranoid,_ she chided internally.

Mitch brought her to the indoor performing hall, which housed a huge concert hall that was occasionally rented out for productions when not used by Townsville High's own Performing Arts groups. He showed her Townsville High's sports complex, which was a solitary building surrounded by lush greenery, housing a sports hall, an indoor basketball court, squash courts, a rock wall and even an indoor swimming pool. Behind the building sat a large field encased within the red rungs of the track. She found that Townsville High was unstoppable when it came to transcending her expectations, especially when Mitch had guided her through the spacious school corridors to visit the library, which held a whopping collection of books. Townsville High had amazing facilities, from its well-equipped Art Rooms to its advanced and sterile science laboratories. Blossom felt wholly refreshed as she savoured the change that would contribute to her healing process. She could feel the promise of new beginnings fill the hole in her heart, little by little.

Mitch had swung them by her locker once again to pick up her books for AP World History and was candidly imitating their homeroom teacher (that Blossom had yet to meet), who apparently had an entertaining habit of engaging his classes in a pre-class Zumba workout session, when he suddenly stopped short next to a large display cabinet that stretched to the ceiling and was filled to the brim with trophies that boasted Townsville High's many achievements. He looked at the large notice board that hung next to the trophy case, his eyes trailing over the words "Honour Roll".

"Is this the–"

"Honour Roll? Yep." Mitch finished.

Blossom's eyes followed Mitch's line of sight, settling on numerous lists that presented the top few students in each subject from her cohort. A couple of names caught Blossom's attention. A "Brick Jojo", whose name was at the top of most of the AP subjects' lists (coincidentally, all of the AP courses that she was taking). Another "Buttercup Vega", whose name had its fair share of appearances at the top of numerous standard subjects' lists, as well as right behind Brick Jojo's name on the AP Chemistry, Calculus, Biology, English and Physics lists. Very impressive.

Blossom wasn't in favour of lavish self-praise, but rationally, she knew that academic excellence was one of her areas of expertise. She could feel her pupils dilating as she hungrily sourced out the names of her potential competitors. Beneath her usually gentle nature, she was a competitive and goal-driven individual at heart and it was something she was actually quite proud of.

"You could give Brick a run for his money, you know, since you both take only AP courses."

"Huh, what?" Blossom stammered, as Mitch's words sidetracked her train of thought.

"You and Brick, you both are the only 2 in our batch whose classes are all AP courses. The guy's a genius, and judging by your subject choice, I think you're probably one too. A pink-eyed Einsteinette, eh?"

Blossom smiled humbly, "Well, I love to learn and I find studying rather therapeutic. So, I guess you can say I'm a nerd and proud? And no, I'm not an albino." Blossom allowed a humorous laugh before continuing.

"Oh, who's Buttercup Vega?"

Mitch's amused smile turned into a dazed look in a split second, his eyes glazing slightly and his face flushed slowly as a dreamy smile appeared across his reddened cheeks. Odd.

"She's… a really good friend of mine. She's really, really smart, like crazy smart and really talented at sports. She's on a Sports Scholarship but heck, I'm sure she could get an academic scholarship if she wanted. She's a really hardworking person and did I mention that she's so great at sports, it's insane? She's the only sophomore to have been the captain of the girls' swim team and now that she's a junior, she heads the girls' swim, soccer and basketball team. She's–" Mitch stopped his gushing abruptly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck nervously. Blossom was a little taken aback when Mitch had suddenly suggested they head off early for their next class, AP World History, though she had chosen not to pry into his… excited outburst. She felt a smirk prance across her lips, she might not have had as much social interaction as she'd have liked to have back in Citiesville, but she was most definitely not dense.

* * *

><p>"Hello, Blossom, I'm Mr Sanders, your AP World History Teacher. Everyone, we have a new student, her name is Blossom Utonium, and I hope we can all do our best to help her integrate into our school society, starting with our History class. Blossom why don't you go take a seat next to Bubbles over here?" Mr Sanders, a kindly man in his late fifties with thin wisps of grey hairs surrounding his crown, announced, gesturing to the seat next to a pretty blonde who was seated at one of the tables in the front row. Townsville High preferred shared tables to individual desks, but as much as Blossom enjoyed her private learning time, she was determined to take it in her stride and grab the chance to make a new friend. She nodded politely to Mr Sanders before lowering herself into the chair next to Bubbles.<p>

The blond girl seemed to have an air of gaiety and friendliness about her, which further accentuated the warmth in her unique light blue eyes. Bubbles offered Blossom a small wave before they were both snapped up into the world of Hitler's Rule. Time flew by as Blossom found herself clinging to each word and piece of insight that Mr Sanders offered, even though she had read through her AP text at least twice. She was so absorbed that she found herself stifling a silent groan upon hearing the lunch bell ring. G_reat timing_, she thought sarcastically. They were just getting into the details of the Holocaust! One thing Blossom loved so much about History was that it never got old, ironically, no matter how the future tried to chip at its edges.

Blossom put down her pen, sighing in satisfaction as she admired the first few pages of her notebook that were diligently filled with neatly penned notes. One could never be too neat or too vigilant when it came to taking notes, and Blossom was sure of it. As she gathered her stationary, she jumped slightly upon feeling a light tap on her shoulder.

"Hi! My name's Bubbles Mandeville! You're Blossom Utonium right? Wanna go grab lunch together?"

_Steady the buffs, old girl, stay calm._

"Sure! Let me just drop my stuff off at my locker. It's locker 65, just down the hall."

"Cool! Mine's right next to yours. I'll come with you!" Bubbles offered, returning Blossom's surprised chuckle with an award-winning smile, flashing a row of straight, white teeth.

Blossom followed her newfound friend out of class, listening attentively to Bubbles' pre-lunch introduction to the various foods one could find in Townsville High's cafeteria.

The school cafeteria had been omitted on Mitch's list of Townsville High Attractions, probably since Blossom would be venturing there later in the day anyway. Blossom figured that if one had to use just a word to sum up the school cafeteria, it would probably be "classy". Townsville High's cafeteria looked nothing like the average school eating area. It was completely posh and polished. An array of delectable foods was arranged appealingly on a buffet table that was against one of the cafeteria's long walls. Some foods were presented exquisitely on a platter, while others sat in pearl-white bowls, waiting to be collected by the students who lined up civilly to collect their lunch. The lunch ladies were dressed in professional-looking cooking attire as they brought out fresh supplies of lunchtime delicacies. Blossom rubbed the shock from her eyes – this was nothing like she had expected. There were no dirty tables or sloppy garbage bins that overflowed with unhygienic rubbish, and the food definitely didn't look like a brown slop of diarrhea-inducing poison.

Blossom followed Bubbles' lead, lining up behind ravenous students. She placed a warm plate of Mac and Cheese on her tray, coupled with a cup of punch and a richly sinful cheesecake. She could feel herself salivating with the delicious scents wafting up her nose, even as she made her way through the maze of polished wooden tables and benches that populated the cafeteria.

"Hey guys! This is Blossom Utonium. Blossom, this is Robin Snyder and Mitch Michelson. Buttercup usually has lunch with us but I guess her class hasn't been released yet. She'll probably be coming later. Make yourself comfortable!"

Blossom had not been treated so hospitably in a long time, and it had definitely been awhile since she was last invited to sit with people at lunch. Usually, she was accustomed to a quick sandwich before darting to the library for half an hour of uninterrupted reading. Robyn, a brunette, offered her a heartening smile, and Mitch waved with a light "Hey". The ice was broken pretty quickly, and Blossom felt herself being drawn into the group's amusingly heated conversation about Bubbles' latest AP Art Studio projects. Though it surprised Blossom that she was finding this so easy, she wasn't complaining about it in the least.

Bubbles' had been halfway through her speech on what a great artist Frieda Kahlo had been when Blossom felt someone slide onto the bench next to her. She turned quickly to face an empty-handed, raven-haired teen. With piercing lime green eyes?

"Hey, aren't you that girl from YOUTHSTYLE? BC?" Blossom inquired as the initial shock at such a coincidence wore off.

"Hey there, newcomer. It's actually Buttercup, Buttercup Vega. And you're?"

"Blossom, Blossom Utonium."

"Cool eyes, are they contacts?" came a further question from Buttercup.

Blossom shook her head, smiling, "Nope, and I'm not an albino either. Both my mom and I have it but it's probably just a birth defect."

"Nuh-uh, not a defect, just a kick-ass birth trait," Buttercup replied cheekily as she reached over the table and made a grab for Bubbles' lemon soufflé before unceremoniously stuffing large spoonfuls into her mouth.

"Hey! Buttercup! That's mine! I thought you wanted to go on an all-salad diet?" Bubbles' whined good-naturedly, fighting to mask her apparent amusement that threatened to show like the smirk that was already on her glossy lips.

"To hell with diets! Call me when they have candy-flavoured salad or something, though." Buttercup snorted as the table erupted into a bout of laughter.

* * *

><p>Blossom clutched her aching stomach, reeling with laughter at Buttercup's inherent wittiness and oh-so-dry humour.<p>

"Seriously though, how do you eat so much but stay so fit?" came the involuntary question from Blossom.

Buttercup let out a triumphant laugh, "Easy, after pigging out, just burn it all. Like I will when my girls and I kick the boys' asses to Antartica when we win the game on Saturday!"

"Game? But didn't the season just end?"

"Yeah, well, the sport junkies usually have intra-school matches between girls' and boys' teams, even after the season ends." Bubbles quickly explained, casting a knowing smile at Buttercup, who was digging into the remnants Blossom's unfinished cheesecake.

"Ha! Butch's basketball boys won't know what hit 'em. We haven't stopped training since the season ended. It's gonna be one hell of a bloodbath." There was a sort of excitedly edgy twinkle in Buttercup's light green eyes.

Blossom was about to let out a chuckle, when she heard a muffled grunt and felt Buttercup bristle next to her before viciously stabbing her metal fork into the cheesecake. Blossom gazed, confused at the rest of the table's inhabitants at their eyes widened at a sight looming behind Buttercup.

"Speak of the devil," Mitch muttered quietly as Blossom slowly turned to look at the boy daring enough to tug at a handful of Buttercup's hair as he stood, towering, behind her. He had stylishly spiked raven-black hair, as dark as Buttercup's, and he had his blazer slung lazily over his shoulder, hanging off his finger. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. His forest green tie hung loosely around his neck.

Buttercup's eyes narrowed dangerously as she violently ran her hands through her above-the-shoulder length hair, her back straightening instinctively as she shot up from the table and stood, barely shorter than Butch in her heels.

"Aw, how pathetic, Butters' afraid of losing to my boys this weekend!" Butch mocked, sneering.

"You wish, Butch." Buttercup scoffed.

"My girls will crush you and your stupid excuse for a team."

"In case your air-filled head has forgotten, my team won the Champion title this season, for the seventh time in a row." He stressed pointedly, voice rising.

"And we won ours for the ninth time running!" Buttercup shot back, her face flushed with sheer annoyance and fury.

Lime green eyes locked with intense forest green orbs, anger exploding from both raven-haired teens as they duelled each other in a swear-fest. Blossom really wished she could wash out her brain and ears with a little Purell after hearing the colourful string of insults Butch and Buttercup flung at each other.

"You scum-sucking douche bag! Why don't you go–"

"Okay, okay cool it you two, stop it, stop it." Mitch interceded, inserting himself between the brawling parties before Buttercup could tear Butches face clean off his skull. Bubbles tugged gently at Buttercup's arm, looking around nervously at the millions of people whose attention seemed to be drawn to the erupting shouting match.

"Butch, could you follow me to the Student Council room? I have some things to pass to Brick. It's really urgent. Come on, dude." Mitch pressed as he dragged Butch from the girls' table, not noticing the fierce glare the two green-eyed rivals exchanged or the guttural growl that emanated from Butch's throat before he yanked his arm from Mitch's grip and grudgingly trailed after the brunette.

"What a jerk! Man, I'll enjoy wiping that damn smirk off his stupid, ugly-ass face on Saturday." Buttercup snapped as she punched her fist into her palm.

Bubbles gently rubbed her best friend's shoulders, eliciting a relaxed shrug from Buttercup.

"Hey Buttercup, don't we have to print our essays for AP English? Mr B's gonna flip if I miss out on his boring assignment again." Robyn drawled on humorously, hoping for her feisty friend to cool off a little.

As Buttercup stood to follow Robyn, she waved quickly to Bubbles and a shell-shocked Blossom before exiting the cafeteria.

"What was that?" Blossom was nonplussed at the explosive nature of her new friend, and yet, it wasn't as surprising as she thought it would've been when she found out about Buttercup's… outraged side.

"Um, well, Buttercup gets a little… riled up whenever Butch's in the picture, sorry about that," Bubbles laughed apologetically before returning to swipe her croutons awkwardly around her plate.

* * *

><p>"See, Butch and Buttercup have had this huge rivalry since elementary school and she really hates his guts. I mean, it's not really hard to see why, because he really can be a chauvinistic jerk of a playboy most of the time and he really gets into pissing Buttercup off. Like <em>really<em> into it. Last year, they got landed in detention 12 times, starting with the Great Food Fight." Bubbles explained to Blossom, who was rather intrigued by the whole deal. She never knew people could get that angry at each other, much less try to rip the trachea right out of each other's throats. She shuddered at the violent image. She preferred… diplomatic resolutions.

"Butch had poured milk all over Buttercup, and she whacked him in the face with a slice of pizza. And soon, the whole cafeteria was a war-torn battleground. And then there was the incident during a frog dissection lab session when they were both forced to pair up. I think Mrs Norris learnt her lesson about putting those two together. I guess they finally eased off when Ms Keane threatened to suspend them from their sport teams. And given that they were both running for Team Captain, I'd say they were pretty worried." Bubbles continued as she walked with Blossom towards their lockers. They would be sharing their next class, AP Chemistry, and Bubbles had offered to show Blossom around the Chemistry Lab before class started.

Blossom swiftly retracted her books and stationary from her locker before turning to Bubbles, who was still comically narrating some of the many Battles of Buttercup and Butch. Bubbles filled Blossom in on the exciting (yet disturbing) details of the paintball assault in freshman year, but despite Blossom's usually astute attentiveness, she couldn't help but notice a bespectacled blonde boy a fair distance behind Bubbles who scrambled ungracefully to catch a football soaring through the air. It was aimed straight for…

"Bubbles!" Blossom gasped, a little too late when her blue-eyed friend had carelessly swung open her locker only to whack the poor blonde boy in the forehead as he lunged to grab the football before it hit her.

TWANG!

The sickening sound of metal against forehead sliced through the chatter in the hallway, as students turned to stare (for the second time that day) at the moaning blonde sprawled out on the floor next to Bubbles' feet. Bubbles stood, frozen for a second, before a deep red hue rushed across her fair skin. She gasped and knelt next to the casualty, voice flooded with concern as her eyes widened in shock.

"Oh my goodness, Boomer, I'm so sorry! Oh dear, I'm really, really, really sorry! I didn't see you, a–an–an–and are you okay? Should I bring you to the nurse's office?" Bubbles gushed as she helped Boomer sit up against a locker. Boomer's messy blonde hair fell lazily about his face and the designer black glasses that amplified his azure blue eyes hung crookedly off his ears, sliding down his thin nose. He scrunched up his nose and let the football fall from his hands before fingering the sore spot on his forehead. Blossom grimaced at the thought of a large purple bruise forming just above his right eyebrow. That would probably hurt. _A lot_.

Boomer seemed dazed for a moment, turning his head to glance at Bubbles who looked at him with a sort of shy concern. He immediately flushed, getting to his feet as he gently dismissed her worries.

"Bu–Bubbles, I'm really fine, it's okay, it wasn't your fault. Really, I'm fine! See, I'm not even a little dizzy." Boomer assured, his voice gentle and stable. He flashed Bubbles an apologetic smile before jogging off to his sandy-haired friend, throwing the latter the football and a discreet scowl (that Blossom managed to catch anyway).

"Oh, I'm such a klutz. That was terribly embarrassing," Bubbles groaned, clearly downtrodden as she fished out her books and trailed silently to class, her head hanging low. Blossom knew better than to bring up questions about the encounter, but she couldn't help but feel a teensy bit curious. She had definitely seen a fair bit of blushing that morning. Oh well, those were inquiries she would probably have to save for another time.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, class, Mr Meyers isn't here today, so all of you are free to engage in your own activities. But do keep your volume down as other classes are still going on next door." The young substitute teacher in who had introduced herself as Ms Sullivan stood at the front of class, leaning against the whiteboard with a smile on her face. <em>She seems pretty nice<em>, Blossom thought as she sat herself between Bubbles and a pretty Asian girl at their long lab bench. Bubbles had remained stonily silent throughout the first fifteen minutes of class, blue eyes staring at an unidentifiable spot a distance away and her fair cheeks painted pink with a furious blush. She seemed to play with restless energy between her fingers, twirling strands of her blonde hair that hung from two low pigtails. Blossom resisted having to rudely interrupt her thoughts, but the silence between them was getting a little uncomfortable, even for her.

"Hey, what's wrong with Bubbles?" Blossom turned to face the girl on her right, taking in her silky black hair and mahogany brown eyes. She felt her eyes trail over to the Student Councillor badge pinned crookedly above the left breast pocket on her blazer.

"Oh, um, she's been this way since she hit a boy in the head with her locker. I–it was an accident." Blossom finished hurriedly.

A smirk crept across the girl's face as she extended her hand to Blossom.

"I'm Jade Lee, 你好吗？(how are you?)"

"我的名字是 Blossom, 很高心遇到你！(My name is Blossom, it's very nice to meet you!)" Jade looked at Blossom, stunned for a while at her new Mandarin Chinese-speaking friend.

"Very impressive, you can speak Mandarin Chinese!" Jade laughed lightly, shaking calmly Blossom by the hand.

Blossom allowed herself a small chuckle. "Yeah, my dad taught me the basics, and I started reading up on my own a little while ago. But I'm not as fluent as I had hoped," Blossom smiled shyly.

"I could always teach you if you want," Jade offered, pushing further to construct the bridge of friendship between them and earning a quick smile from Blossom. Blossom felt her face fall as she glanced over to Bubbles, who still had the same "deer caught in headlights" expression on her face. It was odd to see someone as bubbly as, well, _Bubbles_, look so dejected and shaken like the last ounce of happiness had been sapped out of her.

"Was it the blonde in blue?" Jade's question caught Blossom off guard, causing her to nearly fall off her tall laboratory stool as she spun to face Jade.

The smirk returned to Jade's face, perhaps even wider than before. "The boy she hit in the face with her locker. Was he blonde?" Blossom nodded mutely.

"In blue? I mean, with a blue tie? And the black Calvin Klein glasses?" Another nod.

Jade all but cackled as she doubled over, snorting for breath as she gripped a stunned Blossom, who could only speechlessly stare, by the shoulders.

"Tha–that's Boomer Jojo!" Jade wiped the corners of her eyes with her fingertips, catching Blossom's puzzled gaze.

"Hah, only Bubbles' biggest cr–" Blossom almost toppled off her seat as Bubbles' hand shot out, narrowly missing Blossom's nose as she clamped her hand across Jade's mouth.

"Jade! What are you doing?" Bubbles hissed desperately, before turning apologetically to Blossom and smiling sheepishly.

As she removed her hand from Jade's face, Bubbles had suddenly perked up, "Hey Blossom, didn't you say you play a couple of musical instruments? Like the violin? Jade's in Townsville High's String Orchestra, why don't you ask her if you can try out some time? Joining a club's one of the best ways to integrate into a new school environment." Bubbles finished, beaming proudly at Blossom.

That wasn't a bad idea at all, in fact, it was a rather brilliant one that had almost immediately secured Blossom's mental approval.

"Yeah, you should totally come and try out! We have our practices every Tuesday and Thursday in the theatre, and I could probably talk to Mr Mathias for you. Why don't you drop by tomorrow with a classical piece and we'll see if Mr M's willing to audition you? He's a really great conductor, and I don't see why he'd have a reason to reject Talent when it comes knocking. Oh, and if you do get in, you could play in the Townsville Youth Music Festival, which is basically this competition thing we have in a couple of months." Jade finished hopefully, raising her eyebrows expectantly at Blossom.

A moment of silent contemplation passed.

"Definitely." Blossom nodded resolutely, smiling genuinely at her bench mates who gladly returned the gesture.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

* * *

><p>Chapter 4: Two-thirds<p>

_Boomer's POV_

"You know what goes great with video games? BURGERS! Manna from heaven." Butch hollered rowdily as he gulped down his cola before inhaling his double cheeseburger.

Boomer rolled his eyes at his unruly brother, fingers aching after two hours of gaming with the one and only, Butch. Butch could be so sickening sometimes. _Most_ times. The duo was seated on the carpeted floor around the coffee table in the boys' lounge, in front of their humongous, flat screen HD television.

"So, I heard you got _a lot_ red in the face after Blondie hit you in the head with her locker?" Butch asked with a smirk, breaking out into mocking laughter as Boomer choked painfully on his fries.

"Oh my god, Bryce caught it on camera and showed me the WHOLE thing. It was _hilarious_, not to mention completely embarrassing" Butch snickered triumphantly.

"Hah, you're such a Grade A sissy. "Oh no Bubbles, pinky promise, I'm not concussed at all! Thanks for your hugs and kisses!" Pfft." Butch forced his voice an octave higher, batting his eyelashes and puckering his lips at an infuriated Boomer as he exaggeratedly replayed his brother's demise that afternoon.

"I did NOT say that. And for the record, I thought it was pretty manly to play off the knife through my bloody skull!" Boomer huffed, glaring daggers at his infuriating brother.

"It's all your fault, you idiot. If you hadn't thrown the damn ball and booked it, I wouldn't have had to catch it."

"If you didn't have that dumb schoolboy crush on Blondie, you wouldn't have needed to catch it. Man, you're such a wuss."

Boomer felt his blood boil and rise to his face. Butch was an insufferable pain in the ass, 5000% of the time, no doubt. He most certainly did _not_ have a crush on Bubbles, even though she was really pretty, and talented, and sincerely nice, and smart, and great at ar– _Shut up, Brain!_ Boomer grimaced as he gave his noisy subconscious a silent tongue-lashing.

"I do _not_ have a crush. And at least I don't know any girl who would be over the moon to dig out my eyeballs with a blunt stick, make me trip over them and die just so she can dance on my grave!"

"Urgh, don't even mention Butterbitch. That stuck up little princess makes me so damn mad, she thinks she and her shit team are all that. Tch, there's no way she's gonna beat my boys. I'll pound her so hard she'll be begging me for mercy." Boomer sighed as he watched a maniacal grin twitch across his brother's face.

Before he could retort, their mother walked through the large, open oak doors, an excited smile on her face.

"Boys, don't forget, you're brother's coming home this weekend. We'll be going out for a celebratory lunch! His team's the regional champions at the intercity decathlon!Keep this Saturday afternoon free, am I clear?"

Bella Jojo waltzed past her sons in her 3 inch-heels and beige pantsuit, planting a small kiss on each of their foreheads and ruffling their messy hair before waving goodbye to attend a conference call.

Boomer watched as Butch made a face and rubbed (surprisingly gently) at his forehead. "At least Brick won't be the only one celebrating, I'll have my victory to rub in Butters' face for a long, long time."

Silence, glorious silence permeated the large room as Butch finished up his burger.

"Don't worry Boomer, when you actually succeed at something, I'm sure you can celebrate with your little girlfriend!"

That's it, Butch was asking for it.

Boomer stood roughly and met Butch's sickening guffaws with a deadpanned stare.

"You know, Buttercup's right, you really are a scum-sucking douche bag. Thanks for the ride home though, I really love the smell of the cola carpet in your Escalade." Boomer smiled serenely as he watched Butch's jaw drop before his brother shot out of the room, so quickly that his dark green hoodie left what seemed like a green trail behind him.

As Boomer gathered his rubbish, he heard Butch's ferocious words storm through the corridors as his brother ran to the garage.

"Boomer, when I get back, you die."

Boomer smirked, checking his watch before making his way calmly to his room. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and when Butch just couldn't shut up about how "photography is for sissies" on the way home, Boomer had silently popped a can of cola in the backseat and left the rest to gravity. A few minutes to run there and back, plus factoring in the time to clean up the mess, Boomer figured he had a good 2 hours of sweet, well-deserved peace. He smiled and shut his navy blue door, bolting the lock, just in case.

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><p><strong>Thank you to all who have reviewed so far! Really glad you guys are enjoying the story :)<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

* * *

><p>Chapter 5: Slam Dunks<p>

_Butch's POV_

Butch popped his knuckles, enjoying the crisp cracks that seemed to gross her out. He snickered as he watched her face scrunch into that scowl that he could've sworn was the epitome of bitchiness. Their eyes locked, full of loathing that was as intense as the bad blood between them. Oh, he was going to win this one, and he was going to _enjoy_ it.

The stare-down continued as their team members filed into place on the court, eyes warily watching their leaders. Butch and Buttercup stood facing each other at the centre of the court waiting to jump ball. Butch felt adrenaline begin to pump through his veins, and his face twisted into a grin as his muscles twitched excitedly. He relished feeding off her hatred and anger, snippets of his victory playing over and over in his mind like a broken film projector, not that he was complaining, of course.

"Oh, it's rumble time, Butters. Prepare for an ass-whooping, girlie."

"Don't ever call me girlie, jerkwad. We'll beat you so hard, you'll be crippled for months," Buttercup practically gnarled, eliciting a dry laugh from Butch. Man, did he love when she got feisty. All the more reason to whack the daylights out of her, completely unapologetically.

Butch bounced restlessly on the balls of his feet in his basketball shoes, turning quickly to check that his teammates were all in place. They shifted uneasily, glancing at one another, some of them motioning to the girls with quizzical glances. _Dear God, _Butch prayed, _my boys better not be going soft. Those idiots!_ Butch cursed silently as he focused his attention back to Buttercup and the referee, who made his way with the prized ball in his hands towards the centre of the court.

The world slowed, Butch could _hear_ his blood gushing through his tissues and he could feel the sparks fly between his fingers as they _itched_ to snatch the orange orb and slam dunk it a million times into the net. As the referee blew his whistle and launched the ball sky-wards, Butch leapt, reaching for the basketball and scrabbling desperately with his fingers as he tried to get a grip. His line of vision was blocked by a smirking raven-haired girl, who seemed to glide above him, wrestling the ball gracefully out of the air before landing softly and chucking it to her teammate. _Damn it_, Butch was livid. He shoved through the players in his way, not giving two hoots if they were from his team of not. It was _his_ ball and it was supposed to be _his_ victory. Stupid Buttercup.

His eyes darted around as he took in his surroundings. Buttercup had just slam-dunked the ball through the hoop before throwing him a cocky smirk._ How DARE she?_ He turned away from the hoard of girls giving elated high-fives to each other as he stormed back to his offensive position. The ball was his, and there was no way in hell that he would give it up to _her_ team.

Butch dribbled the ball intensely, bouncing lightly on his feet as he made his way through the girls who came up to snatch the ball from him. The ball bounced off the shiny floor with such a great force that a million and one craters could've been made. He shoved past a tall blonde girl with her hair in a messy braid, earning him a death glare, but hell, he didn't care. Nothing could come between him and _his win_. His feet pounded against the shiny floor and he felt his muscles ache as he pushed them past their limit, bounding toward his goal. He felt his knees bend before he launched himself off the ground, arm arching swiftly to smash the basketball through the hoop. Cheers erupted from his team as he skidded to regain balance and accept a couple of pats on the back from a few of his boys. He caught Buttercup's eye and felt a smirk tug at his perspiration-drenched cheeks. She stared stonily at him, arms crossed as she glowered. _1-1,_ _bring it on._

* * *

><p>Butch felt his chest tighten, with both fury and exhaustion. Both teams had been at it for the past 3 quarters, and they were into their final 10 minutes. <em>10-13.<em> The boys were _losing_, albeit marginally. This was utterly unacceptable! This was _his_ rightful win, how else could he shatter Buttercup's ego with his victory? With her inflated head, you'd think it'd be hard for her to vault for a slam-dunk. Butch growled as he glared at his team, screaming at them with his sharp, forest-green eyes. What a disappointing bunch, they didn't even have the balls to shove a girl aside and snatch a point. IDIOTS. Complete and total IDIOTS. Butch had even gladly elbowed Buttercup to the ground and ripped the basketball from her hands just to show his useless troupe how shit was done back in the 2nd quarter. But did those imbeciles follow suit? NO.

Butch sauntered back from the water station back to his position on the court, patience drawing thin as the break came to an end.

CRASH!

"Oh crap, I'm so sorry!" Came a timid voice. Ugh, it was that feeble freshman that doubled as their water boy. He was down on all fours picking up the fallen paper cups, avoiding the puddle that pooled at the edge of the court.

Butch rolled his eyes, he didn't have time for his. 4 points, and he would win. _Head in the game, head in the game_, came the incessant chants that rang through his head. _Beat her, beat her, BEAT HER._

* * *

><p>2 minutes, 1 more point. Butch eyed the ball in Buttercup's hands with an admirable form of determination that seemed very un-Butch. He skidded after her, his arms out in an attempt to block her throws. It seemed to be working, Buttercup got more and more annoyed, frowning at him as she tried to push past him, shoes squeaking painfully against the floor.<p>

Buttercup cast fleeting side-glances as she moved swiftly towards the edge of the court. _What the heck is she doing?_ Butch couldn't comprehend her choice of direction, but mirrored her all the same. His eyes darted up to the time board. 1 minute. 2 points. _Crap_.

Seconds more of, what was in Butch's opinion, completely pointless darting around was starting to get on Butch's nerves. He grunted exasperatedly as he felt impatience fill him to the brim. _Oh, screw it, it's now or never_. Butch's bubble of thought was ruthlessly popped as he felt Buttercup breeze past him. He lost track of the number of new swears he invented in that second. He twisted around violently, bounding to catch up with her, lunging unabashedly in an attempt to yank her by the shoulders. Butch felt his foot touch the ground. He felt his shoe slip against the ungodly puddle of water that sat sinisterly at the side of the court. He felt a rancid sort of pain that seemed to burn his foot clean off. He heard a gut-wrenching crack as his right foot twisted sideways at an unnatural angle. Most of all, he felt _shame_ as he collapsed forcibly onto the ground as soon as Buttercup had scored the winning hoop. The girls rallied around her, catcalling and dousing his wounds in acid. His boys stood around him, concern and fear shrouding them as they looked upon their outraged fallen leader. Never before had Butch felt such a temptation to squeeze his tear ducts dry and drown Buttercup's ugly face in his pain. But he didn't, because men don't cry.

The crowd around him started to balloon as more players joined the curious gathering. His foot was burning, and he could feel the swelling tissues push rebelliously against his sock and snug shoe. The blood rushing to the area did little to numb the pain. Butch felt Bryce kneel next to him, easing his sore back up with his muscular arms. It was during rare times like these did Butch feel a twinge (just a _twinge_, mind you) of gratefulness for his usually goofy vice-captain and best friend. As he sat up, he heard that bloody annoying voice slice through the air.

"Okay people, girls won, move it, move it, back to the changing rooms. Everyone to hit the shower, NOW. Give the injured child some breathing space." Damn, she was going to _pay_ for that insult. If Butch's foot wasn't hurting this much, he'd have hurled his fist straight at her dumb face. It wasn't like it was his fault that the girl was asking for it.

As the crowd dispersed, he saw Buttercup whisper hurriedly to her vice-captain, the blonde girl with the braid, before the latter caught up with the rest of the team on the way to the changing rooms. Buttercup spun on her heel, sauntering over while staring blankly at Butch. Butch felt his face sour up into a "fierce glare" that was definitely NOT a pain-induced pout.

Butch opened his mouth to shoot off on a tangent of insults and swears, but shut it, surprised, as Buttercup walked over to Bryce instead. He frowned.

"Do you have your car with you now?" she asked, her tone flat.

Bryce nodded.

"Could you drive him to the hospital? From the look of his ankle, I think he sprained something, or maybe even broke a bone."

"Good point, could you wait with him here while I get the car?"

* * *

><p>"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Butch questioned, recoiling with hostility as Buttercup reached for his right shoe with a pair of scissors in hand.<p>

"Shut your mouth, or I'll pound some of your teeth out too." As usual, Butter's 'bitch mode' was cranked up to the highest level. What's new?

Buttercup undid the shoelaces on Butch's shoe, sliding it off expertly before snipping swiftly through the branded fabric of his sock.

"Hey, hey, what the hell that sock was expensive, Buttercup, you don't just go round snipping people's socks off!"

Butch's outburst was met with a cool, deadpanned stare.

"Really? I though you had the minimal amount of grey matter, but clearly, I was wrong. Pulling off the sock might aggravate any injuries, idiot. Tch, and you call yourself 'smart'."

"Hey, watch it, girlie, it's your fault I'm in this mess in the first place!"

"Don't call me 'girlie', idiot. Don't forget, you're the one who lunged for me and slipped on the stupid puddle."

As their argument grew into a shouting match, Buttercup glanced at her watch suddenly, before standing up and striding towards the gym office.

"Hey, hey, where are you going? Hey, I'm talking to you! Hey–." Butch sputtered, muttering curses to himself as he watched Buttercup blatantly ignore his yells. Geez, someone needed to teach her some manners.

His train of thought was interrupted by annoying squeaking. His irritation bubbled and boiled even further as the squeaking just DIDN'T STOP. He looked up towards the gym office, confused as he saw Buttercup dragging an office chair (the type with wheels) towards him. She chucked it roughly at him, glaring as she did so (as usual).

"Get up, and sit your ass down there. I'm not helping you, so you better find a way to crawl up there yourself." She declared as she nodded towards the chair.

"Oh yeah? And why should I listen to you?"

"Don't then, you can gladly slide your sorry ass to the car when Bryce comes." She smirked humourlessly, fixing him with a nonchalent glare with those lime green eyes.

Butch decided that when his foot was healed and all, he was going to snap that girl's neck.

Grudgingly, he lifted himself off the floor and hauled himself onto the chair, almost losing his balance a couple of times because the girl wouldn't hold the chair steady for him. But he wasn't going to fall – to fall would be humiliating, and he wouldn't (in a million years) give Buttercup another embarrassing moment to rub in his face.

"Now if you're done wasting my time, I've got a job to get to. Enjoy your trip to the ER." Buttercup waved sarcastically as she jogged out of the gym, giving Butch no time to retort. _Damn it, now he _owed_ her one, and he would rather drown himself in a pool of radioactive acid than owe Buttercup a favour._ _Crap_.

He took in the refreshing silence, gliding slowly towards the door on his wheelie chair. Despite the peace, he couldn't get a burning question out of his mind: _why_ had Buttercup helped him? _Why?_ What was she up to now? An embarrassing story for blackmail? Maybe she caught his embarrassing ascension to the chair on video and was going to make him an Internet sensation (for all the wrong reasons). As his head filled with an increasing amount of theories, his foot struck a wheel, sending him sprawling forwards towards the gym door as it swung open to reveal a shocked Bryce.

"Whoa, you okay? Ready to go?"

"Ow, Karma's being a pain today, not unlike _someone_ we know. Tch, when this' over, I want a damn rematch."

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><p><strong>Thank you to all who have reviewed! I'm really glad that you're all enjoying the story so far! :D And yes, I had reposted chapter 4 because of edits that had to be made. :)<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

* * *

><p>Chapter 6: A Sense of Urgency<p>

_Brick's POV_

Brick fingered his signature red snapback cap restlessly as he waited in the crowded elevator. There was little he could do about the constant chatter and barbaric shoving in the tiny ascending box. He hated cramped areas as much as he hated being trapped against the back wall of a cold metal box. He flinched subtly as the elevator chimed yet again, as it reached another floor that was obviously not his, for the fifth time in a row. He couldn't stand it, he couldn't stand how people blatantly lacked a sense of urgency and dawdled out of the lift with the speed of a dying turtle. Did they not understand that time was of the essence? That, and his father did not approve of tardiness – he couldn't afford to be late.

It's not as if he didn't try calming himself, he had taken a deep breath just a while ago, but the stuffy air in the elevator almost made him gag. He felt his foot tapping away, shined (expensive) shoes churning out steady clips on the polished floor. He smoothed out the non-existent creases on his crisp red dress shirt and black dress pants. He checked his Rolex. _Crap._ He had 20 minutes to run in, grab the book, pay, and rush down to the hotel for "family fun time" lunch. _Mom and her great ideas_, he thought sourly. It definitely didn't help that his plane had been delayed. Today was one of those days when he had to sacrifice a nice long shower and a satisfying amount of packing time. His luggage lay chucked at the side of his room, opened and messy. Brick hated messes, and he obviously wouldn't tolerate living someplace that remotely resembled pigsty.

Brick's eyes flicked up as the elevator _"ping"_-ed yet again. He felt relief wash over him as he began to squeeze through the crowd. Comically, he gasped for a clean breath of scented air as soon as he stumbled out of the elevator. He took off, sprinting towards the bookstore, ignoring the odd stares that came from people around him. He weaved his way through a labyrinth of wooden shelves that towered over him, filled with beautiful words strung together by amazing talents, bound between pages in book after book. On a good day, when hurrying about wasn't necessary, Brick loved to frequent bookstores, picking out different reads that seemed unorthodox for his taste and trying new books. He secretly loved the smell of new books, but of course, he could never tell anyone. He's learnt his lesson and Butch still couldn't shut up about it. He didn't appreciate getting laughed at.

He glanced at his watch again, as fun as struggling through a maze of books was, he really needed to hurry the heck up. _Huh, perks of favouring an underrated author. At least there would be a few copies of her new book left_. He stopped abruptly in front of one of the shelves at the back of the bookstore.

"G.R. Hotchkins, H, H, H." Brick mumbled absentmindedly as he scanned the spines of books.

On the top shelf, he spotted the red spine with the author's golden initials and the book title on it. His lips stretch into a thin smile as he stood on one of the little wooden footstools placed in front of the shelves. He grunted as he stretched his arm to grab the book, standing up on the balls of his feet. He felt the ladder wobble precariously beneath his weight. He felt his fingers grab onto the shelf before he quickly snatched the book out of its place, sending other books toppling down to the ground. He grimaced at the thought of bent book covers and ruffled corners. He glanced at his watch. _Crap, only 10 minutes to get down to the restaurant._

"Ow!" He heard a shriek pierce through the peaceful ambience of the usually tranquil bookstore.

As he hopped carefully off the footstool, he spotted a girl in front of him with waist-length auburn hair. She rubbed her head tenderly and Brick spotted the books and other items strewn about the floor. Snacks spilled from shopping bags that lay on the ground, next to a pink purse. _9 minutes, NO TIME, shit._

"Um, sorry!" Brick yelled over his shoulder as he ran for the cashier. He simply didn't have time to be a good and responsible Samaritan today. Sure, there was that smidge of guilt, he was a leader for goodness sakes. But he really couldn't afford to be late, especially since his father's impression of him was a key contributing factor to his succession as the company's heir. He did, however, catch the girl's parting remarks of "Jerk!" and "How rude!" He sighed, 8 minutes and dwindling, he'd better hurry the heck up.

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><p>Brick burst into one of the private dining rooms that the family restaurant had, only to meet his brothers' nonplussed expressions.<p>

"Hey, Brick! Mom and Dad are gonna be late, they have a conference call."

Brick stared at Boomer, then at Butch, quizzically examining his obnoxious brother's cast around his right foot and the pair of metal crutches against the wall. Man, was his idiot brother accident-prone. Leave home for a week or two and bam, he gets a new injury. _Injury, injury, crap, the girl,_ Brick groaned as the guilt set in.

"Hey nerdy bro, another book? Seriously? Man, you're always walking around with one. Do these things just fall out of the sky and hit you in the head?"

Brick glared at Butch as he dragged himself over to a chair around the dining table, the book in his hands feeling ten times heavier than it did before.

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><p><strong>Thank you to those who reviewed! Glad you guys are enjoying the story thus far :)<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Powerpuff Girls or the Rowdyruff Boys, or any of the characters from the show! All I claim is ownership over the story idea and the original characters! :)

Rated K+ for mild language.

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><p>Chapter 7: Coincidences<p>

_Buttercup's POV_

Buttercup was, in a word, tired, fatigued, exhausted, dead, take your pick. Her muscles oozed with soreness from that morning's basketball match with the boys' team, and her ribs still ached from getting elbowed viciously by Butch. Well, thank god for Karma because he sure got what he deserved. She smirked at the memory, her team's victory filling her with a sense of pride that somehow managed to get her through the past 5 hours of her waitressing shift at The Empire Restaurant, a fine-dining establishment owned by none other than the Jojo family. The classy place was located on the 35th floor of J Empire Group's 6-star hotel and office building. Despite how she had to wear heels and a pencil skirt on the job, she couldn't complain – they paid really, _really_ well. And she needed the money.

"Hey BC, you look dead." Remarked her colleague, Desmond, a kindly man in his fifties.

Buttercup laughed drily, nodding as she slumped into the soft, comfy couch in the servers' lounge.

"I've been up since 6 this morning, and we had a game today. Girls won." Buttercup cracked a smile as she nodded off. Sleep had never felt so refreshing, until her manager, Mr Parks, had ruthlessly torn it from her.

Mr Parks clapped his hands sharply as he strolled into the lounge, waking Buttercup up with a start.

"Remaining private room servers, I need you now at room 6! Chop-chop, people, we're not paid to lollygag! BC, come with me, you're covering Sandra today."

Buttercup scrambled after Mr Parks as she swept her heels off the posh carpeted floors.

"Okay, BC, given that you've never served a private room before, here's what you need to know: private rooms are for the VIPs of the VIPs. We do things like take their coats and serve them with... well, everything we've got. It doesn't matter if they want cheese dipped in chocolate sauce on top of a hot dog. If they want it, we deliver it. Capiche?"

Buttercup nodded mutely, expertly walking in her heels (which also functioned as her school shoes) while ignoring the pain that came with each step. As they neared Room 6, she saw 4 of her co-workers lined up quietly outside the door, as still as those British palace guards she'd seen on TV.

"Why can't we–"

"BC, we can't go in till the... how should I put this... main stars of the show are here. We're waiting for the Chairman and his wife."

Buttercup's lips curled into a petit 'o' as she stepped into place at the front of the line, next to Mr Parks who stood guarding the doors. Buttercup could hear muffled voices from behind the large mahogany doors, and she found herself wondering who was the 'VIP of VIPs' she had the supposed 'honour' of serving today. She smirked,_ well, guess it pays well to be rich, huh?_

Buttercup perked up, cocking her head towards the door. _That's weird, that sounded like..._

"And that crazy chick just kept moving everywhere, and when I was going for the ball she jumped aside. Man, I swear she did that on purpose, just so I would slip on the puddle, that she _knew_ was there, by the way, and break my foot. Dude, I'm telling you, she did it on _purpose_ because she couldn't stand that we were gonna win!"

_Butch. _Buttercup would recognise that annoying, ear-grating voice anywhere. _Oh hell, Chairman and his wife, shit, it's _them_ and their _parents_. Shit. This is why you don't serve private rooms, BC!_

Buttercup cringed and whispered a string of profanities that she deemed suitable for her dire situation, ignoring the odd look Mr P gave her. She felt like crashing through the doors, taking her heels and throwing it at _that_ jerk's stupid face, before stomping a million times on his stupid foot. But of course, she would be fired and slapped with a lawsuit from those rich people's lawyers. She raised two perfectly arched brows, stared at the ceiling, going off on her mental tirade.

_Really, Fate, or whatever the hell it is people believe in. Really? You're doing this to me right now?_

Mr Parks nudged her quickly with his elbow as the Chairman and his wife came down the corridor. They strolled down the carpeted corridor in some sort of regal fashion that Buttercup found quite amusing. They were decked out in expensive clothes: Mr Jojo in his designer suit, and Mrs Jojo with her Dior dress and Prada handbag. Buttercup was sure that she had sprayed herself with priceless scent. _Man, they even smell rich._

Mr Parks jumped into action, pulling the mahogany doors open for the power couple, bowing his head with a formal greeting. Buttercup followed suit, as did the rest of her colleagues.

Mr Jojo nodded before entering the room, while Mrs Jojo, a woman very pretty for her age, smiled warmly at the 'welcome party', nodding in thanks for their service. _Humph, she's not too bad._

Behind the closed doors, Buttercup steeled herself for the upcoming crappy experience she was forced to endure, though she had to bite her cheeks (which hurt like hell, she might add) to choke back her laughter at Mrs Jojo's muffled greeting for someone whom she assumed was Brick: "Welcome home, my little Einstein and president of the champion decathlon team! Mommy's so proud of you! We all are, aren't we, boys?"

Buttercup took a deep breath as Mr Parks entered the room with the rest of the servers on his heels. Buttercup found herself drowning out Mr Parks' overly long introduction of the expensive lunch menu, her energy and attention focused on resisting the urge to stare daggers at Butch. She looked calmly at Mr and Mrs Jojo, with the Jojo brothers' shocked faces within her peripheral line of sight. She let out a mental sigh. _This is going to be the worst lunch service. Ever._

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><p><em>Bubbles' POV<em>

Bubbles found herself twirling the end of one of her pigtails restlessly, she had never seen Buttercup so agitated at their weekly sleepovers before.

"Well, maybe, she didn't lose the match? Maybe something happened after that, or she just wasn't happy with the prize?" Blossom ventured, as curious and worried as Bubbles was.

The girls were gathered in Bubbles' luxury penthouse, which initially started off as a weekly tradition between Buttercup and Bubbles. After a fun first week of school and laughter-inducing lunch conversations, Blossom had been invited to join in the Saturday night fun.

"No, no, they never have prizes, and if she'd won, she'd be making fun of Butch and his team. She's never this pissed off unless her team lost."

Bubbles and Blossom sat silently on the white couch in Bubbles' living room, recalling the fright they both had when Buttercup had began furiously pounding on the front door and jabbing her finger onto the doorbell button. It was easily the noisiest and most uncalled for entrance the two of them had ever seen. Bubbles had silently watched as her best friend stalked wordlessly to the bathroom for a shower, before reflecting the same confused look Blossom was giving her. _That was weird_.

A frustrated scream emanated from the bathroom on the second floor, startling Bubbles and Blossom, before an enraged Buttercup stomped out in her green pyjamas ruffling her messy, wet hair with a lime-green towel. Bubbles couldn't think of anything to say as she watched Buttercup walk down the stairs before plonking herself onto the couch.

With a couch pillow over her face, Buttercup let out a muffled cry, "Butch Jojo, you STUPID, IDIOTIC, PRISS."

Bubbles cautiously patted Buttercup's shoulder, before starting softly, "It's okay, Buttercup, I mean, sometimes losing a match isn't all that bad! You guys are still the official champions, right?"

Buttercup raised her head sharply to scowl at her blonde friend's chirpy remark.

"What?! We didn't lose, we won and Butch even broke his foot."

Bubbles felt a sigh of relief escape her. _Okay, it's not _that_ bad._

"Huh? Wait, then what are you so mad about?" inquired Blossom.

"I went for my shift at The Empire Restaurant in the Jojo's hotel after the game, which we had won very victoriously, if I might add. Then during my last hour, my LAST hour, Sandra had to clock out so I had to replace her as one of the private room waitresses, and guess who my last customers were?"

"I'm gonna guess and say, Butch Jojo?" Bubbles found herself mildly amused with the way Buttercup's eye would twitch whenever her 'enemy's' name was mentioned.

"Mm-mm, not just him, his entire family was there. Man, I don't know how much richer their family can get, 'cause if I'm about to pay over a thousand dollars for lunch, then I'd better be taking home some gold cutlery with my foie gras! Yeah, so I had to be at their beck and call. Don't get me wrong, I had no issue with the Jojos, I just have an issue with that chauvinistic pig. I had to serve him the whole way through and had to pinch myself 5 TIMES just to resist slapping that stupid smug look off his repugnant face.

"And you know what, the idiot told me that he wanted me to cut his steak up for him in front of him because his foot hurt and he wanted to keep it 'fresh', and obviously I couldn't say no because Mr Parks, that old nag, was staring at me like his eyes were gonna fall out of something. I really, _really_ wanted to stab someone. He kept ordering me back and forth to complete his ridiculous orders. If it wasn't because my team won this morning, I would've been charged with murder by now. That and his mom gave me a super large tip for dealing with his crap."

Bubbles chuckled, "Wait, wait, but how did he break his foot?"

"Oh, he was trying to grab the ball from me, but I kept dodging the grabs, and Stupidhead didn't watch where he was going and ended up slipping on a puddle of spilt water. Pathetic, ain't it? Now can we please order pizza? I'm starving."

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><p>Bubbles savoured the melted cheese atop her New York cheese pizza whilst admiring the bags of snacks Blossom was pulling out of her haversack.<p>

"What happened to the bagels? Did you forget the bagels?" Buttercup asked, disappointed, as she wolfed down her fifth slice of pepperoni pizza.

"No, I didn't but you wouldn't believe what happened to me today! I was shopping for the new novel that one of my favourite authors, G.R. Hotchkins, published and while I was hunting for it, a boy swept a whole row of books off the shelf and it toppled onto me! So the bagels dropped out of the box, and I got hit in the head, and he didn't even bother apologising! He just ran off! How rude." Blossom made a face as she recalled the unpleasant memory, absentmindedly rubbing a sore spot on her head.

"Oh dear, are you okay, Blossom?"

"Yep, thanks Bubbles, I'm fine. Hey, Buttercup, if you don't mind me asking, why do you work 2 jobs?"

_Oh no,_ Bubbles thought worriedly. She knew Buttercup was one of the strongest and most resilient people she'd ever come to know, but openness wasn't exactly her strong point.

Buttercup seemed to catch a glimpse of Bubbles' worried expression, before lightly waving her hand to dismiss the latter's obvious worry.

"Nah, it's fine. Um, well, in short, my family has always been... poor, I guess. I mean, all my dad did was work in this tiny, obscure marketing firm, and my mom stayed home to look after my sister and me. And it wasn't until he got a job as an online shop's general manager that things started looking up financially. But not long after, he got hit by a drunk driver and died. So it was just the three of us left. A year ago, my mom was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia, but it was discovered early and she's undergoing treatment. So, to pay the bills and to take care of Rose (my sister), I work 3 jobs." Buttercup finished simply, and it left Bubbles' with a sort of ache be reminded of all that her best friend had been through. She never did say it (for Buttercup was never one for mushy sentiments), but she had always admired Buttercup's fiery spirit.

"I'm really sorry, and I hope your mom gets well really soon."

Buttercup cracked a rare, genuine smile that seemed to lack the usual dry sarcasm.

"Thanks, Bloss."

Bubbles couldn't deal with the stony silence that had settled among the group, so she cleared her throat and proudly declared the commencement of one of the most clichéd slumber party activities: manicures! Bubbles never thought she would enjoy listening to Blossom's perspective as to why nude nail polish was a very sensible choice for 'career women', and she had been thoroughly entertained when Buttercup had to be wrestled with and eventually pinned down for a chic coat of polish on her chewed up nails.

As the girls settled down for the night in their sleeping bags in a room designated for sleepovers, Bubbles couldn't help but smile at what she felt was the beginning of a very close and lengthy friendship that was simply one of a kind.

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><p><strong>Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, and thank you to those who had previously reviewed! Please do feel free to add more comments as all forms of constructive criticism are greatly appreciated! :)<strong>


	8. Chapter 8

**Hope you guys have been enjoying the story so far! Please read and review! :) Enjoy!**

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><p>Chapter 8: Negotiations<p>

_Ms Keane's POV _

Ms Keane was a smart woman, and it wasn't a trait that she was unaware off. She had often been told that behind her motherly exterior and educator's presence, she had the mind of a fox and the tongue of a lawyer (or a businessman), capable of negotiating any terms to her favour. She wrung her fingers in anticipation – she would have to cross 2 hurdles today, and it wasn't like anything she'd ever... encountered before. Sure, she'd tried solving it in the past through short-term means of separation and warnings, but never had she ventured to such an extent to bring _those_ two together. And for hours on end, at that. She knew much too well that Buttercup and Butch, in each other's presence, were ticking time bombs just waiting – very eagerly – to explode and cause mass destruction. She'd seen in during the Great Food Fight, and she definitely didn't need to see it again.

_Step 1, Bella Jojo. Get her and the deal's as good as sealed._

Mental reassurance was very comforting during trying times such as these. Ms Keane couldn't believe how some people could ever think that running a HIGH SCHOOL was a piece of cake. If anything, it was as good as throwing yourself into the Amazon without Bear Grylls at your side and trying to teach the animals to read. That and high school, same difference.

She felt her eyes dart towards the clock as she checked the time. _Almost there_. _3-2-1._

And there it was, 3 knocks on her door. The Jojos were rarely ever late.

"Come in!" Ms Keane called out.

"Why, hello, Ms Keane, pleasure to see you this afternoon!" Bella Jojo smiled, her warm eyes twinkling. Unmistakably, she was a very pretty woman, especially for her age.

"Good afternoon, Mrs Jojo."

"Oh, please, call me Bella."

Bella Jojo moved to shut the door, before taking her seat in front of the Principal's desk. _Hmm, no Butch, this should be easier than expected_.

"Butch is?"

"Oh, he's at the doctor's, getting his new, more permanent cast on."

"Ah, I see, I hope he gets well soon. Tea?"

And so, pleasantries were exchanged over a steaming, warm cup of Chai tea.

"Well, Bella, as you know, I've called you here today because of Butch. Don't worry, though, he's not in any trouble. It's just that Butch is a very bright child, an all-rounder. He's intelligent, resilient, disciplined, it's just that as of now, he's channeling all that energy and effort into sports, especially since he captains both the basketball and football teams. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'd say that you and your husband are looking to pass your life's work to your children? I wouldn't say that he's struggling with his studies, his grades are passable, but with a 2.5 GPA, I worry that he may not make it into a college of your family's choice."

Ms Keane paused for effect, studying the expression on Bella Jojo's face. Perfectly plucked eyebrows scrunched in worry, glossed lips pursed in thought. Her blue eyes darted as she soaked in what her son's principal had just presented.

"But, there is a way to save this."

Her deep blue eyes flicked up to meet Ms Keane's calm gaze.

"There is?"

"Typically, for an Ivy League university, stellar results for both school and SAT performances are required, as well as recommendation letters in some cases. Given that Butch has an impressive sport record, I doubt he'll have trouble landing sport opportunities. But then again, sport is not a career option, is it? The only bump in the road might be his... less impressive academic records. I propose that we use this time, these 2 to 3 months of immobility on his part, to reestablish his foundation. Butch is a smart boy, and I do believe that with hard work and the right help, he can catch up and excel."

"Really? You really think he can? I mean, I know my son is intelligent, and though he may not be as intensely so as Brick is, he still is intelligent. You should see what that boy comes up with sometimes." Bella finished, a slightly reminiscent smile on her face.

"Yes, Bella, I do. And that's why I'm proposing that he receives tutoring services for at least 6 hours a week, to brush up and catch up on what he's unsure of. He's almost halfway into his Junior year, so we don't have a ton of time to waste. I have an incredible student in mind, and she has teaching experience. She's on our scholarship programme and she is as involved, if not even more involved than Butch in her preferred choices of sport. She's a straight A student who is constantly on our Honour Roll and I believe she's an excellent choice."

Bella sighed, clearly relieved in light of recent news. She smiled hopefully at Ms Keane, growing more hopeful with each passing moment.

"Yes, yes, I trust your judgment, Ms Keane. If you say she's good, then she _is_ good. Would she be willing to tutor him for $50 an hour?"

Ms Keane bit her cheeks to stop herself from breaking out into what some might consider a 'crazed smile', although she thought it was rather fitting for such a triumph. _And the deal is sealed._

"Of course, I'll be meeting with her later this afternoon to discuss any terms or concerns you might have. Her name is Buttercup Vega, one of our best students."

"Oh, she sounds lovely, she'll be of big help! Hah, I hope they get along great!"

Ms Keane allowed a small smile. _Yep, you and me both, Bella... you and me both._

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><p>"So, what's up, Ms K?" panted Buttercup, who was still in her grass-stained soccer jersey and shorts, sweat dripping from her chopped locks. Her face was flushed from soccer practice, and she gladly accepted the cup of water Ms Keane handed her, glugging it down in a most unladylike fashion.<p>

Ms Keane laughed lightly, "How's Rose, Buttercup?"

"Oh, she's alright, loves first grade, misses preschool, same old, same old."

"And your mom?"

"She's getting a lot better, doctors reckon she can be out in a couple of months, depending on how she takes the chemo."

"That's good, that's good to hear. And you? How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. Why?"

Ms Keane smiled, quietly impressed by Buttercup's resilience. _That girl must have a pretty high AQ._

"Buttercup, run my through your daily schedules."

Buttercup hesitated, looking rather puzzled at such an odd question.

"Like, what I do from Monday to Friday?"

"Mhmm, Monday to Sunday, if you please."

Buttercup cocked her head curiously, "OK... sure... Ms K. From Monday to Friday, school from 7 to 2. Since the seasons are over, soccer's on Monday, b-ball's on Tuesday and swimming's on Sunday. Then on Wednesdays and Thursdays, I work at YOUTHSTYLE and on Fridays I'm at Starbucks for the evening shift. The Empire's on Sundays from 11 to 4. Why?"

_And this girl's still on the Honour Roll._

Ms Keane was both shocked and in awe of how Buttercup could juggle so many things (but her expression was as calm as ever, of course), study and still care for her sister. It was, in short, she against the world. Ms Keane knew Buttercup worked, but never to such an extent. _Buttercup, please take the job. You need it. You need to rest._

"Buttercup, I have a proposition for you. A student who is currently struggling in his work needs your help. His parents are willing to pay $50 an hour for 6 hours of tutoring services a week. This arrangement should go on for about 2 or 3 months, after which each week will only require about 3 hours of tutoring. Will you take it?"

Ms Keane watched as Buttercup's eyes widened in surprise and her jaw dropped at the mention of such a hefty sum.

Buttercup sputtered for a while. "So, like, um, what? So, $300 a week? Awesome! But I can only make it from Wednesdays to Fridays for 2 hours each day. That's fine, right?"

Ms Keane chuckled as she nodded at her beaming student. "Yes, Buttercup, of course, can you start next week?"

"Sure thing, just give me till then to tie up loose ends, thank you so much, Ms Keane! You don't know how much this means to me!" Buttercup rushed forth to envelope Ms Keane in a huge bear hug, a rare display of affection from the usually aloof girl.

"Now, there, there, Buttercup, as much as I love your hugs, we have to discuss other terms. There's no contract necessary, but you **must** give me your word that you will do your utmost best to tutor this _poor, poor _boy who is simply _struggling_ to make his grades. You need to help him Buttercup, and you must promise that no matter what happens you cannot back out. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, sure, Ms K! Thank you so much!" Buttercup released Ms Keane from her embrace and bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet, leaving little imprints of mud and moist grass on the wooden floor.

"I'm serious, Buttercup, whatever happens, you must stick with it and you absolutely cannot back out. Do you understand? Can I have your word?"

Buttercup settled to meet Ms Keane's firm gaze. "I promise."

Ms Keane felt a burst of happiness within herself and she felt herself smiling, grinning even, from ear to ear. She had succeeded, she had succeeded! _It's what's best for them both, you did well, Keane, you did well._

"Thank you, Buttercup, I knew I could count on you! You meet Butch and his mom first thing after school next Wednesday, alright?"

A deadly silence swallowed the room. Buttercup had stopped fidgeting, she had stopped smiling, and she looked like she was about to stop breathing soon.

"Meet who again, Ms Keane?" Buttercup began slowly, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Ms Keane steeled herself. _And of course, who ever said this was going to be a piece of cake._

"Buttercup, you gave me your word, and I know you're a girl of integrity and character. And this job will be good for your! Not physically taxing, pays very well, and you'll have more time to spend with your sister."

"But Ms Keane, it's BUTCH. I'd rather sock myself in the face with my shoe and allow cannibals to dig out my brain than help BUTCH. And it's BUTCH, which means he'd kill me first before listening to anything I say. Geez, he'd probably laugh if he gave me a heart attack."

Ms Keane squirmed internally at Buttercup's graphic description that was, needless to say, disturbing. She wasn't going to let this fall through now, she couldn't.

"Buttercup, you need to put this rivalry behind you! You're seventeen years old, for goodness sakes. And Butch isn't that bad, he's immature, that's all. Come on, if you're not doing this for him or yourself, at least do it for your sister and your mom? You don't want them worrying over your health, do you?"

Buttercup opened her mouth in an attempt to argue, but stopped and slumped onto the principal's desk, defeated.

"Buttercup, this would be good for you, you'll burn out if you keep going the way you do. I bet your eyebags are even permanent at this point. You're seventeen and you need your rest."

Buttercup grumbled in protest, refusing to meet Ms Keane's gaze.

"Yeah, but it's Butch, he'd make me burst a blood vessel before my eighteenth, I can tell you that, lady."

She sighed, before lapsing back into silence. Ms Keane waited patiently, appreciating the soft clicks of the ceiling fan that permeated the thick silence.

"Fine, I'll do it, but it's not to help that jerk's grades or anything. I'm doing it for Mom and Rosie. And... I give you my word, Ms K."

Ms Keane smiled and nodded, relief filling her to the brim. _This one's our fighter._

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><p><strong>Next chapter will be up soon! Please read and review! Huge thanks to those who had reviewed previously! :D<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone! Feel free to read through the earlier chapters as I have made a couple of edits to those :)**

**Hope y'all enjoy this chapter :)**

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><p>Chapter 9: When Uptight Met Uptight-er<p>

_Brick's POV_

To say that Brick was in one of his 'sour moods' would be a complete understatement. Not only was he still sore about the slip-up with his presentation for the company initiative (which was, unsurprisingly, all Butch's fault), he was downright ticked off with the fact that his pigheaded brother had spilt cereal onto his laptop._ It's his foot that's temporarily impaired, not his brain or fingers!_ His prized English paper would have dwindled into virtual nothingness, if it hadn't been for iCloud.

Brick set his jaw, piercing red eyes glaring straight ahead as he entered the classroom. He didn't care if he looked intimidating, he simply did what he felt like whenever he was mad. He didn't mind a touch of arrogance in these situations either. As usual, he was one of the first ones there. He grumbled as he set his Biology books down at his usual spot, and though he enjoyed the luxury of a two-seater table all to himself on most days, he just couldn't seem to bring himself to _care_ that morning. He noted that the novelty of sitting alone in classes, while everyone else shared cramped elbow spaces, had worn off.

Brick dived into his brand new novel, cherishing each and every one of G.R. Hotchkins' words. He was totally shut off from the outside world as he read, a usual habit of his. He didn't notice the students that streamed into class noisily, neither did he notice a gentle tune being hummed by the girl standing right next to him.

"E-ex-excuse me, that's where I usually sit." Came a soft voice.

Brick barely made an effort to pull his eyes away from his novel. He just didn't feel like dealing with other people that morning._ It's not my fault that I'm in one of my moods._ He probably should've taken his books and scooted over to the seat right next to his, but he just couldn't seem to bring himself to _care_ that morning.

"Excuse me, sorry, but are you new? Because we're assigned seats in this class." Came the same voice, still a little timid.

"Exactly, and this is _my_ spot."

"W-what? No, I've been at this seat since I got here."

"Look, lady, if you want to, sit there, its empty. Just stop talking."

Brick sighed with irritation as the girl quietly took the seat next to him. He looked up at the girl who was placing her notebooks on their table, immediately shocked by what he saw. His eyes were wide as saucers as he studied the girl with his mouth slightly agape. She had auburn (slightly orange-ish) hair tied into a high ponytail with a red bow and wore a pink tie under her blazer. It was _her_, it was that girl from the bookstore!

She turned to glare at him with her pink eyes, narrowing them slightly as she spoke.

"What? I stopped talking, that really was my seat for the past two weeks, jerk." She huffed and sat down to study her notes.

_She's new?_

Brick still couldn't speak, he wanted to apologise for dropping a bunch of books on her head and taking off, he wanted to explain that Butch was the reason why he was so ticked off that morning. But he couldn't, and for the first time in a long while, Brick was tongue-tied. He grimaced, _so much for first impressions._

He sat through the lesson feeling like a terrible person as he flipped through his notes unenthusiastically. This girl was going to be his lab partner for the rest of the school year, and he had dropped books on her and snubbed her before he even knew her name. This was not a good day, and Brick prayed that it wouldn't get any worse.

As Brick cleared his papers off the table, the girl waltzed past him but paused before exiting.

"Hey, you're Brick Jojo, aren't you?"

Brick nodded, surprised at her sudden attempt at conversation. Maybe being friends was still a possibility?

"Yeah, well, thanks for dropping that stack of books on my head. Yep, I remember!" The girl spun on her heels and promptly stormed out of class, slapping Brick in the face with her hair.

_Yeah, nope, 'friends' is definitely not a possibility. _

This was definitely a day for firsts, so for the first time, Brick found himself praying that he wouldn't be getting a desk buddy in any of his other classes. This one was more than he could handle.

* * *

><p><em>Blossom's POV<em>

"Is this a joke? I mean, come _on_, it's not possible that I'd have to sit next to him in _all_ my classes!"

"But you're not, you're next to me for History and Chemistry, so it's not that bad! Cheer up, Bloss!" Bubbles offered a small smile.

Blossom huffed as she dug her fork into her quiche violently.

"Bubbles, it's _horrible_. I went into Biology this morning and found him sitting at my seat, and I thought he was new so I told him _really nicely_ that that was _my_ seat. Twice, even! He just ignored me like I wasn't even standing there and just kept reading his book. He was incredibly rude and he told me to stop talking, Bubbles, to _stop talking_! Who even says that to somebody?

"And you know what? He's the jerk who dropped all the books on me and–"

"Wait, what? He's the guy who dropped the books on you and took off?"

"Yup! He just spent the whole lesson brooding like it was burning him _just to sit next to me_, and I didn't even do anything to the guy! And in calculus, he looked at my pop quiz and _smirked_. He SMIRKED, Bubbles, do you know what this means? I know he's smart, Mitch told me, but he doesn't have to have an inflated ego over it. He's a rude, competitive jerk!"

Bubbles stared at Blossom, a deadpanned expression on her face. "Gee, and I thought BC was the competitive one..."

"Whoa, what's she got her bow in a knot about?" Buttercup wondered as she set her plates down onto their usual table.

"Well, remember how you said Brick came back on Saturday? Yeah, turns out, the two brainiacs are in the same classes, and they're not happy about it, at all. See, _just look at her quiche_!"

"Bloss, what's so bad about Brick? He's just a little cold, basically the tall, dark, brooding type, not to mention those scary-ass red eyes. But he can't be any worse than Butch, and I have to start tutoring that idiot this Wednesday." Buttercup grumbled.

Blossom cast a sympathetic glance over to Buttercup, and chose to indulge in Danish pastry instead of her ruined quiche. As much as Blossom liked healthy competition, she couldn't stand the condescending air that Brick just seemed to exude. He didn't even seem apologetic about his attitude that morning, or for her demise at the bookstore, which hurt a lot, to be perfectly honest. She sighed morosely, forcing herself to look forward to the Student Council interview she had signed up for.

"Oh, hey guys, guess who just signed up to try out for the Vice-president of the Student Council!"

"Yeah, now that you mention it, I can really see you in student government." Buttercup added with a smile.

"Jimmy Hiroshida moved back to Japan right? That's why the spot's empty?"

"Yup! My interview's in two weeks! It's my first time trying out for something like this." Blossom laughed and cradled her elbows sheepishly.

"Hey, Bubbles, anything wrong?"

"See, well, it's just that... the council President is kind of...well... kind of..."

"Kind of?"

"Um, kind of... Brick."

Blossom stared at Bubbles, her eyes wide in disbelief. Sudden realisation hit Blossom as she recalled her first encounter with Butch, and she remembered how Mitch had dragged him away with "some things to pass to Brick" in the "Student Council room". Argh, how could she have been so stupid not to remember?! Blossom snapped out of her thoughts to see her two friends staring wordlessly at her plate, and looking down, she sighed upon seeing that the fork in her hand had destroyed her Danish pastry.

* * *

><p>Blossom felt dead, as if all the energy had been drained painfully from her body. She usually wasn't one to be thankful for Fridays, but with string orchestra practices getting more intense before the Townsville Youth Music Festival and her burgeoning rivalry with Brick, Blossom couldn't wait for a relaxing Saturday at Bubbles' or a good few hours reading in her library.<p>

As Blossom sat on one of the uncomfortable wooden chairs outside the Student Council room, she felt her eyelids grow heavier and heavier by the second. Soon, keeping her eyes open had become an impossible task. Blossom was slumped against the backrest, head resting gently against the wall in hopes of catching a nice shut-eye before the interview. Everything had been quiet and peaceful... until a certain someone came along nudging her foot and disturbing the peace.

"What?" Blossom moaned tiredly as she rubbed sleep from her eyes.

"Wow, coming for an interview and snoozing right before your turn? Is this a game to you?" Blossom knew that haughty voice anywhere. _Brick_.

Rolling her eyes, she stood up to face him. "For the record, I've had a tiring few weeks, and the last time I checked, catching a quick nap isn't a sin!"

"Listen, I take these chances very seriously, and I suggest you do too. Student Council is about serving and capability, not about wearing a golden badge for your name, Ms Goody-Two-Shoes. Though I must say, I can't wait to see what kind of self-praise you'd come up with now, but that shouldn't be too hard, considering how full of yourself you are."

Blossom fumed. Ever since she had laid eyes on this boy, she'd hated him, and she was rarely one to have a huge disliking for others. Not only was he arrogant and self-righteous, he was such a pompous hypocrite!

"Oh, well, aren't you the kettle calling the pot black?!" She shot back.

Blossom knew very well that the best way to avoid conflict was to walk away and let it go, but this was _Brick_. The rivalry between them was as natural as trees in a forest. Two insanely competitive people who loved challenging each other, and it didn't help that the teachers were constantly comparing them, however unknowingly. Both could only resort to intellectual prowess to assert dominance and superiority over the other. So, each pop quiz was a shoot out, and each test was as good as war between them. Never had Blossom been so compelled to nail straight As, not for the sake of knowledge, but the sake of beating someone she really, _really_ disliked. Maybe detested, even.

Brick smirked humourlessly, before entering back into the council room. Blossom wanted to scream, she wanted to throw her books at his face, she wanted to turn into Buttercup and use a football to crush his foot. She was so tempted to do something rash, something _satisfying._ She sighed exasperatedly and paced the empty hallway. Luckily, the rays of golden sunlight that streamed through the glass windows were soothing enough, and soon, she had decided that a great interview session and getting the post would be the best way of getting Brick to eat his distasteful words.

* * *

><p><em>Brick's POV<em>

Brick sauntered into the cafeteria, novel in hand as he scanned the crowded dining area for his brothers. His eyes landed on a redheaded girl at her usual spot with her usual friends, the only difference being the new golden badge she had pinned proudly onto her blazer.

Brick scrunched his nose in annoyance, recalling how he had to bite his tongue and suck it up to present Blossom Utonium with her 'Vice-President' badge with a fake smile plastered onto his face, right in front of Ms Keane. Urgh, he could just cringe with embarrassment. The girl had shown up at the interview wowing Ms K with her oh-so-perfect answers and presence and track record. Ugh, he didn't need her shoving her merits in his face.

_It's not my fault that we hate each other. _Yes, admittedly he had dropped books on her and ignored her, but that was only because he was having a bad day! Or was that no longer permitted? Geez, she's a crazy nerd, and he had caught her just the other day sneaking a peak at his grades. Not only that, she was the biggest pain in the neck during lab sessions, good lord, she couldn't NOT be in charge. It was "Brick, do this", "Brick, do that" all the time, as if he was the idiot.

It's not like he _wanted_ to hate her, he just couldn't stand her, that's all. It wasn't his fault that she's so insufferable.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading! :) Chapter 10 will be up really soon :) Reviews and constructive comments will be greatly appreciated! :D<strong>


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